


Brain Freeze

by Ralkana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Flirting, Foreplay, M/M, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a popsicle is just a popsicle. (And sometimes it's not.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brain Freeze

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine. I'm just playing.
> 
> I blame this on tumblr. And Clark Gregg. And the popsicle I had earlier today.

 

Clint grins as he rounds the corner and sees Coulson's office door ajar. Not that he wouldn't have enjoyed his treat anyway, but this... this'll be _fun_.

He knocks and enters all in one movement, as Coulson is still glancing up from his work.

"Barton," Coulson says evenly, no hint of irritation in his tone at the interruption.

"Boss," Clint says with a grin, as he shuts the door behind him. He sets the cup of coffee that is his apparent reason for dropping by on the desk in front of Coulson before sprawling on the couch.

He ends up with one leg on the floor and the other hooked over the armrest, not bothering to pull down his t-shirt where it has rucked up a little, showing a sliver of his abs. It's not quite the _most_ provocative position he could've ended up in, but it's close.

Staring at the ceiling, Clint gives Coulson time to look him over seemingly unobserved. He knows without peeking that Coulson is looking his fill -- they've been dancing around this thing between them for months now, years maybe, and Clint thinks it's long past time to ramp things up. When he finally glances back at Coulson, the man is eyeing him blandly over the top of the monitor, gaze firmly on Clint's face.

Clint grins sunnily at him, and Coulson's eyes twitch like he wants to roll them before he glances back down at his work. He looks up again at the crinkle of cellophane.

"I love Big Sticks, don't you?" Clint asks innocently as he unwraps his popsicle.

"Don't get my couch sticky, Barton," is all Coulson says, and he absolutely means the entendre, though his tone remains mild.

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

Clint applies himself diligently to his dessert, working harder at eating a popsicle than he ever has in his life. He swirls his tongue playfully around the top of it, licking up the sweet juice as it melts and making all sorts of appreciative noises as he wraps his lips around the tip and sucks lovingly. His hooded gaze drifts to Coulson to gauge his reaction.

The man is seemingly absorbed in his work, paying no attention to Clint, but his cheeks and the tips of his ears are definitely pink. Clint can't see his eyes, but he bets they're dark with hunger, and he awards himself a point.

His Big Stick is melting quickly now, and he is mostly occupied with licking up the juice, lips and fingers and chin sticky with it. He could finish it easily, but he wants this to last as long as possible.

Coulson stands suddenly, tugging on his suit jacket to straighten it.

"Sir?" Clint asks in surprise, nearly dropping his popsicle -- he really hadn't expected Coulson to flinch first.

"Lunchtime," Coulson says breezily. "Would you like to join me?"

Clint shrugs and stands, trying not to be put out by Coulson's complete lack of reaction to his stunt.

"Sure," he says, but before he can take a bite of his popsicle to finish it, he jumps in surprise as Coulson's hand wraps around his wrist.

His thumb is resting on Clint's pulse point, and the corner of Coulson's lip quirks as Clint's pulse jumps under his touch.

He glances down at the melting popsicle and then catches Clint's gaze without lifting his head. His blue eyes are dark through his thick lashes, and Clint's breath stutters to a halt as Coulson lowers his head, lips parting to show a hint of tongue.

Clint can only stare, open-mouthed and shocked, as Coulson wraps his lips around Clint's popsicle, hand on Clint's wrist guiding it deeper into his mouth. He hums happily, throat working, not stopping until his lips brush Clint's sticky fingers.

Clint sways on his feet as he goes instantly, dizzily hard, and Coulson pauses for a moment, just long enough for Clint to feel the barest swipe of his tongue before he slowly pulls back.

His lips are wet and sticky, and Clint bites back a whimper as Coulson licks them, raising a hand to wipe at the corner of his mouth.

He smirks at Clint, lightning fast, there and gone, before he turns and heads for the door.

_Game. Set. Match_ , Clint thinks hazily.

"Coming, Barton?"

Clint has to wait a moment before following after him, or he just might.

**END**

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Big Sticks actually exist.](http://www.popsicle.com/product/detail/107848/big-stick-cherry-pineapple) I'm not sure what the actual dimensions are, but they are larger than your standard popsicle.
> 
> And hey at least Clint hasn't found [this](http://kimmybacondoll.tumblr.com/post/51186153603/thesexiestoffenders-bl00d-sugar-i-found-a) yet. It's probably the next step. (Link is definitely NSFW)


End file.
